


An Overabundance of Words

by navree



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, I had!!!!! so much fun!!!! writing this!!!!, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navree/pseuds/navree
Summary: When Jughead realizes this, he startles himself so badly he trips, bangs the corner of his hip against the table, and plummets to the ground.In a world where you can only speak 140 words a day until you touch your soulmate, Jughead Jones meets Veronica Lodge and goes over his limit.





	An Overabundance of Words

**Author's Note:**

> requested on tumblr at http://navree.tumblr.com/post/166757399253/jeronica-soulmate-au-if-you-dont-want-to-do.  
> this is an original soulmate au concept i came up with on my own, so if you use for your own fics please give credit  
> as always, comments (either positive or constructive) are always welcome and much appreciated!

Jughead has been counting his words ever since he was small. It’s never been an issue for him, trying to make sure he doesn’t go over his limit. Oftentimes, he ends the day with extra words to spare, something that has baffled almost everyone he knows. The first Jellybean could speak in full sentences, she went over her word limit, and had such an offended look on her face when her voice stopped that Jughead had to physically stuff his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from laughing. Apparently, it's a common thing, but he's never had the problem. Not even when he was little. 

Archie hadn't had that problem when they met, but that was because Archie Andrews lived next door to Betty Cooper and had already met her and hugged her and played with her by the time he was able to speak in full sentences. Sometimes Jughead wonders if they're lucky. Unlike the rest of these poor saps, Archie and Betty have never had to count each syllable, or wonder when someone will waltz through the door and allow them to talk like semi functional human beings. Other times, Jughead ponders whether or not the idea of soulmates eliminates the idea of free will, and thinks that Archie and Betty aren't that lucky at all. 

He doesn't care that he counts his words. He really doesn't. He has never been one to patrol the halls looking to stare soulfully of the eyes of that one special person; he'll save whatever sweetness he has in his personality for Jellybean and Hotdog. He can live without a soulmate. Plenty of people do, and besides, what can one person do for him that he hasn't been able to do for himself. 

 

 

 

Out of what will become their ultimate friend group, he is the last to meet Veronica. Jughead has heard about her, who hasn't? The beautiful New York princess, the raven haired and sloe eyed troublemaker. It would be surprising if he hadn't heard of her. But he honestly doesn't know what to think about her. She's pretty, according to half of the school's male population. She's smart, according to the girls in some of her classes. She's a troublemaker of Cheryl Blossom proportions, according to the River Vixens who had been in attendance at the Back to School Formal after party. But Jughead has never liked basing his opinions solely on other people's impressions, and so when he has the opportunity to sit next to Veronica Lodge at Pop's and make a decision for himself, he does. 

They were right. She is pretty, and she's definitely smart, and she does manage to make him laugh at one point, nudging against him the slightest bit. At some point during the conversation, Jughead's internal counter grows smaller and smaller until it vanishes, and he isn't so stringent on counting his words as he generally is. When they're finally all ready to leave, he's plucking a final fry from his plate when he realizes something monumental. 

He's gone over his 140 words. For a moment Jughead is puzzled, because he can't think of anything drastic that's happened, and he certainly hadn't felt a sudden realization throughout the entire day. Then his eye lands on Veronica's purse and it hits him. It's Veronica. Of all the people in the entire world, it's Veronica Lodge. When Jughead realizes this, he startles himself so badly he trips, bangs the corner of his hip against the table, and plummets to the ground. Which would be funny if his world hadn't been upended completely. 

Archie and Betty immediately rush to his aid, both babbling over each other to figure out whether he's all right. Jughead just looks at Veronica, who looks so genuinely puzzled she probably hasn't realized what he has yet. All he does is mumble "I'm fine," under his breath as he clambers up, and then refuse to say anything for the remainder of their time together. 

 

 

 

He gets a call from Veronica at approximately one in the morning, while he's working on his novel and trying to make sense of what the Hell had just happened that night at Pop's. Jughead doesn't recognize the number, but picks up anyway because he really doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts. 

"Jughead?" Her voice is so hesitant at first that he has a hard time picking out who it is. 

"Veronica!" The surprise in his voice is almost at the level of a bad sitcom, and he hears a dry huff of laughter on the other line. 

"The one and only." A pause. "So." 

"So." Another silence, this time longer, more awkward. "I can meet you at Pop's in about half an hour?" The line crackles again, this time with Veronica's sigh. 

"OK." They both hang up without saying goodbye. 

 

 

 

He arrives before Veronica does, orders some food, and then Jughead hears her before he sees her, hears the sound of her heels against the floor, and wonders why she's decking herself out in her usual way **_(_** does he even know her usual way though, he's only just met her **_)_ ** when it's early morning. Veronica slides across from him in one fluid motion, folding her hands over each other and locking her fingers together. Jughead isn't sure if she simply looks nervous or is nervous. 

"Jughead Jones the Third." She says it slowly, like she's trying to taste it on her tongue. It makes him feel oddly vulnerable, like she's trying to undress him with his eyes or something. 

"That's my name, don't wear it out," he jokes, and then feels the tips of his ears burn when she looks at him with that same puzzled look. There's a slight smile on her face though, and besides, it's not like he cares what a practically stranger thinks. "It's something my dad used to say." 

"Oh." Veronica nods, swallowing. "Cool." It feels as if they're still monitoring their words, trying to make sure they don't go over that 140 word mark. According to his mental count, he's at 27. Assuming all the word's she's said since this past midnight have been to him, Veronica's at 13. That's a first, someone actually being more taciturn than this. 

"Listen-"

"I was thinking-"

They both stop, and Jughead feels a seed of exasperation creep into his chest. He doesn't like feeling awkward; he doesn't like being in awkward situations, and he still thinks that this entire "destined to be with one person because the mystics of the world says so" shtick is total bullshit. He taps his foot against the floor, an uneven staccato beat to accompany their stilted non conversation. 

"Look, Veronica, I barely know you," he says bluntly. She nods, and Jughead is grateful that she doesn't seem to be particularly offended by his statement. It's true, after all. They've had one conversation, excluding this one. "And I don't want to just jump down your throat because the universe says I should." He's at 50 now, and the part of his mind that reminds him he's got less than a hundred words left for the entire day is silent. 

"Then we'll just carry on like nothing's happened." Veronica's tone is so decisive and in such sharp contrast to the uncertain look in her eyes that it feels like Jughead's been dunked in a pool of ice water. He looks at her with what is no doubt the same stunned look  had a few hours earlier, when he first figured out that they were soulmates. It sounds odd in his head, and ridiculously hokey. She must have registered his look. "It's like you said Jughead." It also still feels weird to hear her say his name. "We don't really know each other at all. Diving headfirst into something would be ridiculous. So we'll just keep on going like everything's normal." 

He should feel relieved. She's not trying to push or pressure him into anything; they both seem to be of the same frame of mind. Going after each other based on nothing more than the premise of destiny would be ludicrous. But Jughead still can't help but feel like he's been rejected after asking a girl out on a date. He doesn't tell her this, he just mutely nods his assent and goes back to eating his food. 

"Besides," she adds with a slight smirk. "You'd be awful for my image rehabilitation." He glances up at her sharply, but Veronica's smiling and there's a light in her eyes that allows for what he would normally take personally to slide off his back with ease. She's at 61 now, and Jughead feels better knowing he's back to being the recalcitrant one, the way he is in all his relationships. 

"You really do like running your mouth, don't you?" he teases in return. 59, still less than her. She steals some food off his plate with her fork, and he must have the most affronted look on his face that he's ever had, because she actually makes a sound that could almost be taken for a laugh. 

"Now that I can, yeah. I guess I do." 70 to 59. Jughead fights the urge to smile at her. And when they part ways just when the sun starts to break over the treetops, he knows that they've both clocked in more words in that one conversation than they probably had in the past month. 

 

 

 

It's easy to fool Betty and Archie. They're so used to talking without limitations that it's oftentimes easier for them to notice reticence than overabundance. Jughead still tries to consciously stay within the word limit, and not slip up the way he had the first night. Kevin is harder to fool, mostly because he's still within the 140 word limit and very bitter about it, and also naturally observant. Jughead takes to carrying a slip of paper in his pocket whenever he's in Kevin's vicinity, in case he "runs out" of words and has to write things down so people don't suspect. Veronica finds it hilarious. 

It’s easy at school, for him at least, because most people at school don’t really feel the need to give him the time of day. And they, like everyone else, are used to his sparse word usage. Jughead imagines that it’s harder for Veronica, with all the boys determined to get to know her and all the girls trying to size her up. During a brief conversation with Veronica, he learns that Cheryl Blossom in particular is trying to learn all she can about the new girl, and being soulmates **_(_** no it still sounds bizarre **_)_** with the school outcast would certainly be of interest for her. But Veronica is making sure not to be overly wordy, and keep things pretty close to the vest. 

Apparently, not being overly wordy when he talks is more than just a restriction put on him since he said his first words. It's a natural Jughead trait, and it allows  him to easily pretend that brushing shoulders with Veronica Lodge hadn't unlocked his voice, for lack of a better word. For Veronica it's harder, and sometimes he notes that she goes a couple words over. Good thing is that she notices it too, and clamps her mouth shut before it gets too noticeable. 

It's hard, sometimes, but most of the time it works out. It's only when they're alone ( and they so rarely all ) that they both have free reign to talk until their throats feel dry and their voices are scratchy. It doesn't happen often, because Jughead doesn't really know whether or not he wants to spend an inordinate amount of time with Veronica. Sometimes he doesn't, because sometimes she's so infuriating he's sure that this is all some cosmic joke. And sometimes she makes him laugh in short bursts, or gets him engaged in talking about some book or movie that he was sure no one else had seen. In those moments, Jughead finds it amazing that he was ever able to live on 140 words a day.

 

 

 

Reggie Mantle asks her out during their first football game of the school year. Jughead isn't sure why he's even there; he doesn't go to these things, not even for Archie. He relies on his chatty friend to give him the play by play later on. And he definitely doesn't go for the company. Jughead doesn't like a lot of the people here, not the football players or the cheerleaders or the marching band or the cheering crowds in the stands. But he goes anyway, jacket pulled tight around his shoulders and beanie pulled low over his head. Jughead will happily decry the entire thing to anyone who asks, but still he leans against the bleachers and watches everyone prep. 

He sees Veronica and Betty with the River Vixens, and again he can see why Archie was so starry eyed when they first met, and why he's heard people talking about her in passing. If he wasn't aware of how aggravating she could be, Jughead would think that she's one of the prettiest girls in Riverdale. But he does know how aggravating she can be, and they've sworn not to make any changes to their lives despite this whole development. And normally, Jughead wouldn't think Veronica was pretty. Right? 

He goes back to watching the football game, trying his hardest to scowl. 

Maybe Veronica spots him, or maybe it's just his imagination, but it honestly feels, for a moment, like she's smiling at him. And not a sardonic, I know better than you because I'm from New York smile, but an honest to God happy smile. Against his better judgment, almost against his will, Jughead smiles back, and immediately ducks his head. A spot in his chest feels warm, and he wonders for a moment if maybe coming to this game wasn't such a bad idea. 

It's during half time when Archie jogs up to him, sweaty and grass stained and smiling ear to ear like he's having the time of his life. 

"What're you doing here Jug?" he asks. Jughead shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Have to break the status quo sometimes," he mutters, tucking his chin into his chest. Over Archie's shoulder he spots Reggie Mantle swaggering over Veronica, no doubt to tell her something concise and charming. Reggie never has a problem minding his words; he doesn't know all that many anyway. But whatever he says makes Veronica laugh, and tuck her hair behind her ear in that way she does sometimes. The tips of Jughead's ears burn again. 

"What's Reggie doing?" His voice is carefully casual, and Archie, bless him, doesn't hear if it sounds a bit forced. He looks over to where Reggie and Veronica are now engaged in as much of a conversation one can be engaged in with a maximum of 280 words. 

"He said something about wanting to ask Ronnie out," Archie explains flippantly. "You know how Reggie is, if he thinks someone's hot he's just gonna go for it. Calls himself a lady shark sometimes." Archie laughs. Jughead doesn't. 

"And he's her type?" He never pictured Veronica to go for someone so completely brainless as _Mantle the Magnificent_. "Reggie, I mean. I can't picture them together, they're total opposites." Archie shrugs. 

"Looks like it." And with that, he's off again, bounding to talk to Betty as Reggie continues to charm Veronica. If he had cared about her being his soulmate, Jughead would have probably felt a mixture of anger and irritation and some strange sad feeling he can't explain.

But he doesn't care. He knows he doesn't care.

 

 

 

"Do your parents know?" She slides into his booth at Pop's late one night, the way they've occasionally done, and begins the conversation without preamble. jughead looks up from his computer screen and scrutinizes her for a moment.

"No," he answers honestly. "My mom doesn't live in town any more, and I don't really feel like talking to my dad about all this...this soulmate stuff." It still sounds awkward and clunky on his tongue. "You?" 

"My mom's the one who figured it out." His eyebrows jump up, and Veronica laughs. "I was talking to her, and then out of the blue she asked me how many words I had said that day...And then we realized." She looks down at her hands. "I didn't figure out it was you until a while later. And I didn't tell her that." 

"And your dad?" There's an odd vulnerability on Veronica's face, one that makes his ever moving fingers still for a moment. 

"You can't tell someone your secrets if you don't trust them," is all she says, talking more to the table between them than Jughead. He feels a pang in his stomach, and on impulse reaches his hand across to take her's. She looks first at their clasped fingers, and then up at him.

"I'm sorry." He really hopes he sounds sincere, because he is. Veronica gives him a smile, small and soft, and squeezes his hand briefly before letting go. There aren't a lot of people at Pop's tonight, and so they talk and talk and talk until the early hours of the AM. 

 

 

 

He finds out from Betty that the apparent date with Reggie hadn't even been a date after she decided to invite Kevin and Josie McCoy along. Jughead isn't even sure why this makes him feel smug, but it does.

 

 

 

She looks good during the pep assembly. Jughead isn't sure when he starts noticing Veronica's looks more than usual, but he has. And he can say that the pep assembly is one of her better looks. Unlike the football game, it is mandatory that he attends this, so even if he loathed Veronica he would be stuck here. But, shocking as it is, he doesn't loathe Veronica. And there's an exuberance to her, especially today, that makes him want to smile. 

"Woo, go Bulldogs!" He has to fight the ridiculous urge to laugh, for some reason, instead choosing to press his lips together and shift in his seat. 

"You've got a funny look on your face." Jughead shoots Kevin a look, a look that should clearly say _Can you leave I really don't like sitting next to other people_. Of course, when does Kevin ever listen to any of his cues, either verbal or nonverbal. "You know, I was at Pop's the other night." Jughead nods exaggeratedly, twitching his fingers against the bench. The Vixens have since given way to the Bulldogs, and Reggie and Chuck appear to be performing some elaborate chimpanzee style ritual on the court below. It's making the bleachers cheer. "And I thought I heard an argument involving some flirtatious name calling and the works of Truman Capote." Jughead's stomach bottoms out, and he keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead of him. "It sounded similar to an argument I heard between you and Veronica at lunch yesterday about Harper Lee." They really needed to pick a better place to hold their clandestine, over the word limit conversations. 

"Interesting," is the only thing he says, retreating back to pre soulmate review type responses. Kevin human, and the bench creaks as he gets up. 

"Well, just saying," he concludes conversationally. "It piqued my interest. Probably not enough to gossip about it, but still." When he leaves Jughead lets out a sigh he didn't realize he had been holding in. The assembly is concluding, thank God, and he's among the first to leave, nearly running into Veronica in the hall. 

"Hey." She looks pleasantly surprised at his presence, even if he has nearly bowled her over in the midst of all their classmates. "Pep assemblies not your thing?" 

"Never have been." She smiles, and Jughead runs the back of his neck. "Can we talk real quick?" The crowd is thinning as everyone disperses, but Jughead doesn't want to be smack dab in the middle of the hall while having a longer than average conversation. Veronica nods, and then grabs his elbow with the subtle confidence of someone who's dragged people into empty classrooms before. The door is still slightly open, but Jughead doesn't mind. 

"So what do you want to talk about?" Veronica asks, leaning against a desk. 

"Kevin kind of told me that he knows. About you and me," Jughead adds. Veronica's eyebrows rise, and she nods, lips thinning. She doesn't look particularly put out by the news, which is a good thing. And now that the shock of Kevin accosting him at the pep assembly has faded, Jughead is starting to realize he doesn't feel very panicky about the news either. 

"It's not that big a deal, I guess." Veronica echoes his thoughts without thinking, and he notices that she's picking at the hem of her shirt. "How did he find out though?"

"He heard us arguing yesterday at Pop's." She laughs, one of those rare full faced laughs that make him feel like he's just said the funniest thing ever uttered by a human on planet Earth, and the spot of warmth in his chest expands. "I guess we weren't as subtle as we would have hoped." 

"No, I guess not." She smiles, biting her thumbnail. "You know, it could have been resolved easily if you had just admitted that I was right-"

"Even though you weren't-"

"And that they never should have made a movie about _In Cold Blood_ -"

"It's by far one of the best movies out there-"

"Given that it wasn't that good of a book in the first place!" He feels so aghast that he can't even respond, and Veronica's smile just widens. He breaks and laughs, folding his fingers together. 

"You have horrible taste Veronica Lodge," he says simply. She doesn't say anything, just cocks an eyebrow in his general direction. By now, he knows that means: it means _I could say the same about you, Jughead Jones the Third_. They lapse into an easy silence, the two of them in this darkened classroom, and Jughead thinks of how astonishing this all is. Had someone, on the first day of school, gone back in time and told him that he would, in due time, have a relationship that feels this _right_ , particularly with some uppity rich girl from New York, he would have told them where to stick it. But now...Now he honestly can't imagine having gotten through the school year without this strange relationship he has with Veronica, soulmate or no. 

"Jughead?" He looks up, and she's back to playing with the hem of her shirt. "The way you acted about Kevin finding out...I just...I wanna know if-" She cuts herself off with a deep inhale. "Is this something we have to keep a secret Jughead? Something we have to hide?" 

"I don't know," he answers honestly, heaving a sigh of his own. "I know we said we were going to act like nothing changed, but..." He has absolutely no clue where he's going with any of these thoughts, so he stops, watching the thin crack of light from the partially open door cutting through the tile. 

"Is this something we need to be ashamed of, Jughead?" Her frank honesty startles him. "Is this something we need to feel guilty about so that we only bring it up during late night diner meet ups or impromptu conversations in dark classroom?" On the rare occasions when Jughead ran out of words, before he met Veronica, his throat would close up tightly, as if he was seconds away from crying. That's how he feels now, in the dark with Veronica, because he has never been more aware of the acute social divide between them. He is still the Boo Radley of Riverdale High, and Veronica is rapidly on her way to claiming the role of Holly Golightly as rightfully her's. 

"Do you feel ashamed?" The _of me_ hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. Veronica takes a step forward, fingers still working the hem of her shirt. She swallows once, and Jughead is preparing himself for the worst when she shakes her head. 

"No." They are very close, and he reaches his hands out to catch hers, to still her fingers and appreciate the way they warm his skin. The quiet returns, but this time it isn't easy, and there's an anticipation for something thickening the air. All of the sudden, Jughead is struck with the urge to simply tip her chin up, bend down, and kiss Veronica. They're close enough that it would require very little movement, and for a moment he wants to. He's filled with the overwhelming desire to do just that, and he knows that it isn't destiny telling him to do so, but a decision he's come to all on his own. He swallows, and his grip on Veronica's hands tightens ever so slightly. 

"Do my ears deceive me, or am I not only hearing a Jeronica conversation, but a Jeronica conversation that's definitely put the both of you way above the daily word limit?" They pull away, and Jughead narrowly avoids being whipped by Veronica's hair as she whirls to face Cheryl Blossom. She's got a conniving look on her face that wouldn't make her at all out of place in a B-rated Halloween horror movie. 

"Were you _spying_ on us?" Veronica sounds appropriately outraged, but all Cheryl does is purse her sticky red lips and tap her nails against the doorknob. 

"Now Veronica, can it really be called spying if you two are being blatantly obvious? A puppy with eyesight issues could figure out what I've figured out." Veronica scoffs, and once again Jughead acts impulsively, places a hand on her shoulder. Cheryl zeroes in on that with gleeful abandon. 

"What exactly have you figured out, Cheryl?" Jughead asks before she can make any comments. Her smile widens, and he almost expects to see her cleaning yellow feathers off her face. 

"You two turtledoves are soulmates." Jughead's stomach bottoms out. It doesn't sound hokey or ridiculous when Cheryl says it, and it sets something strange in his chest aflutter when he hears it. The shoulder under his hand stiffens slightly, and Jughead wonders if Veronica is thinking the same thing he is. 

"Bingo bango," he comments dryly. The redhead acts like he hasn't said anything.

"Riverdale High's very own Romeo and Juliet." Cheryl gives him a dismissive one over. "Or maybe Hamlet and Ophelia." He doesn't have to be facing Veronica to know that she's just rolled her eyes. 

"Wow Cheryl," she says sarcastically. "I'm actually impressed that you've paid attention in school to know that Shakespeare wrote more than one play in his lifetime." It's Cheryl's turn to roll her eyes as she places her hands on her hips, every movement heavy with disdain.

"Don't be petty Veronica, it's beneath you." This time Jughead is the one to roll his eyes. "Anyway, it's not like I'm going to tell anyone." Cheryl sighs at the silence that follows. "I have a life to live, Gomez and Morticia Addams. I don't intend to spend more than however long this conversation is trying to get involved in your love saga." With that, she takes her leave, slamming the door behind her. The noise makes them both jump, and Jughead snatches his hand off Veronica as if the contact burns. She seems puzzled, and from the looks of it, not just by Cheryl. Her eyes linger on his face, and once again Jughead is seized by the insane desire to kiss her. 

"I should get to class," she murmurs, and then Jughead is alone, wondering what the Hell had just happened. 

 

 

 

It's just his luck that he is once again in the same vicinity as Veronica when another guy approaches to ask her out. This time Chuck Clayton has the honors, approaching her as she lounges on a couch with Betty and a recently liberated Kevin, who has just met a man named Joaquin DeSantos and realized that he really does love talking without a word limit. Jughead is accompanying Archie's quest to find a specific bag of chips, which have been found in the student lounge vending machines, making him once again an unwilling witness to nonsense he would rather avoid. 

"So, Veronica...You and I both run in similar circles of life." Chuck waits until Veronica looks up at him, with a confused look that Jughead would find familiar if it wasn't slightly hostile. "So, what do you say? You, me, a dinner at Pop's and a night in my car? I could swing by the Pembroke to pick you up, say, 'round eight o'clock?" Wow. Chuck must be confident she won't say no; he's got less than one hundred words for the rest of the day after this spiel. 

His posse is certainly waiting in anticipation, and Kevin looks like he's on the edge of his seat as he waits for Veronica's answer. Betty and Archie share a nearly identical troubled look. Veronica is still giving Chuck a thorough and neutral glance, and Jughead is slightly impressed that he isn't flushing under it. And then, for a split second, she looks at him. There are a myriad of emotions in that look. There's concern and humor and confusion and affection and a touch of something unreadable that Jughead can't figure out, and it makes his eyes sting. In that same second, he shakes his head.

 _No. Don't go out with him. Please don't go out with him_. He wants to know why he's so vehemently against it, why he was so vehemently against her potential date with Reggie, wants to know why he wanted to kiss her in that classroom, why the universe decided to make his life so damned complicated. Veronica shifts her gaze back to Chuck, who hasn't noticed anything because he's an idiot. Jughead takes a sip of coffee, letting it burn his tongue. 

"Sorry." She flashes him a sardonic smile. "Not interested." Jughead nearly chokes on his drink, and Archie has to pound him on the back. Betty's mouth is in a perfect O, and Kevin actually made an audible gasp. To Chuck's credit, he doesn't try to push the matter. He takes his defeat and leaves to the hoots and hollers of his friends, although Jughead can see him muttering darkly to himself. Veronica leans back, clearly pleased with herself, as everyone accosts her with questions. 

She catches his eye again, and they share a smile. 

 

 

 

He tells his father. He comes from school, plunks his bag down and spits out " _HeydoyourememberHermioneLodgeherdaughterismysoulmateandIthinkIamOKwithit_ " in one breath. FP raises an eyebrow and makes a humming sound. Jughead feels immensely relieved to have unburdened himself on his own terms. 

"You want my advice?" Jughead nods, linking his hands together. "Soulmate doesn't mean shit unless you want it to. And my guess is that if you like this girl, it's not because the universe told you to. It's because you actually like her." 

His dad might come short in certain areas, but this time FP Jones has hit the nail right on the head. 

 

 

 

Neither of them brings up the Homecoming Dance. They had talked about it once, in passing, and Jughead had only one thing to say: "I don't do dances." At the time, Veronica had laughed, and swatted his arm, and that had made him smile. Lately though, he's been wondering whether or not he should brave the possibility of it all. Betty and Archie and Kevin are excited, and even Cheryl managed to crack a smile as they announced the Homecoming Court nominees over the intercom **_(_** she was a shoe in for Queen, no surprise **_)_**. And Jughead entertains, very briefly, whether or not he should try for it. Try and come in, maybe dress up, drink punch with his friends and dance with the pretty girl who had bumped his shoulder and freed him from the 140 word limit. 

 

 

 

He decides to go at the last minute. His father has a suit ready, which was apparently his when he was his son's age, but there's a knowing glint in FP's eyes that makes Jughead believe that his father knows him better than he would like to admit. At the last second, he takes his hat off, and wipes his palms on his pants and makes his way to Riverdale High. Jughead doesn't go in right away, and instead lurks in the hallway for a bit, pacing back and forth, until a voice breaks through his reverie. 

"And here I thought you didn't do dances." Veronica is wearing a simple purple dress, understated and elegant, and just like that first night at Pop's, he's struck by how beautiful she is. Everything, from the dark hair to the sloe eyes to the pearls to her smile to the way she fidgets with her fingers, it's all enough to take his breath away. Jughead presses his palms and fingers together and tries to think of something to say, but words fail him. He has the ability to say whatever he wants, without any restrictions, but nothing comes to mind. He splays his hands almost helplessly, a smile breaking on the corners of his lips. 

"You look amazing," he says, almost breathlessly. She ducks her head, fiddling with the pearl necklace around her throat. 

"You look pretty good too." It's his turn to feel shy, and once again Veronica Lodge makes the tips of his ears flame red. But he doesn't miss his hat. He takes a step forward, and so does she, her heels echoing in the empty hall.

"I tried." Jughead gestures to himself. "But like I said...I don't do dances."

"Is that why you haven't gone inside?" she asks, moving so that she's right next to him. Jughead's breath hitches. He shrugs his shoulders, leaning against the wall and scratching his thumb.

"Just mentally preparing myself to face the Gossip Girls and Boys of Riverdale High," he comments dryly. Veronica chuckles, and then, very suddenly, sits down on the floor, arranging the skirt of her dress tastefully around her. "What are you doing Veronica Lodge?"

"If you're gonna be mentally preparing yourself, Jughead Jones the Third," she fires back, "Then I might as well wait with you. And I'm not gonna stand around doing nothing in these heels." He chuckles wryly to himself, but sits down next to her all the same, legs folded up loosely and elbows resting on his knees. Veronica's legs are curled under her, her palms rest on her thighs. "So what made you decide to come here tonight, if you don't do dances?" Jughead scootches himself closer a titch, mostly to give himself time to look like he's really thinking, rather than stalling for an answer. 

"I don't know." This time, it's not honest. "I guess I need to break out of my regular style every now and then." 

"Clearly." Veronica's finger plays with his tie, and Jughead leans forward almost unconsciously. "No beanie?" He reaches up to touch his head, his hands meeting black tresses instead of typical knitted cloth. 

"No beanie," he confirms, another smile playing on the edge of his lips. "I figure, if I'm going to this thing, I'm gonna go all out." Veronica passes a quick hand through his hair, sending a thrill up his spine. "And it didn't really go with the whole outfit." 

"Oh, I don't know," she teases with a smile of her own. "I think you could have pulled it off." They both laugh, and then lapse into a comfortable silence. They're very close, foreheads almost touching. "Jughead?" He hopes it isn't like the last time, where her sudden questions led to the opening of a floodgate he hadn't been aware existed. "Do you think about what our lives might have been like if we never crossed paths?" He shakes his head almost instantly. 

"No." 

"Why not?" Jughead sighs, leaning back a little, but his hand catches one of hers reassuringly before she can read too much into his actions. 

"For one, dwelling on what ifs has never really been my style." Veronica scoffs lightly. "And secondly, I like where my life is at now. I like the friends I have, I like the actions I've taken to get here." He gives her a measured look. "I like that I don't have to worry about the word limit." The implication behind his words is clear, and Veronica sucks in a breath. She turns their palms over, tracing absent minded drawings on his skin. 

"You're not just saying that because of destiny?" His free hand comes up to cup her face, the pads of his fingers running along her cheekbones. They're barely centimeters apart, if that, and the night has taken on such a dreamlike cast that Jughead wants to pinch himself to make sure he's awake. He would too, except that both his hands are currently holding Veronica, and he doesn't want to stop doing that.

"Fuck destiny." He says it so simply and so seriously, but he smiles when Veronica does, and he can smell her mint toothpaste. "I mean it. We said we would act like nothing's changed, and that's what we did. So the way I feel about you..." Jughead's breath is shaky when he inhales. "I like to think it would have happened regardless of whether or not you're my soulmate." No, it doesn't sound hokey this time. It sounds just right. Veronica's free hand loosely circles the wrist by her face, her fingers likely burning imprints on the delicate skin over his veins. 

"The way you feel about me..." Veronica says it the way she said his name that first night at Pop's after they figured it out, like she's testing it, tasting it. "Is it the way I feel about you?" She's so close that their lips are brushing, but it's not a kiss, not yet. Jughead's breathing is ragged, and he can feel the way her pulse jumps in her throat. "Does it feel like this?" 

"Veronica Lodge..." It's a whispered groan, and all he has to do is just take that extra millimeter, cross that extra boundary into something. 

"Jughead Jones..." His eyes flutter shut, and so do her's, he can feel her lashes on his skin. "How many words have you spoken today?" Normally, he can give a precise number, even in this new world where no numbers are necessary. 

"Who gives a damn?"

He kisses her. And it feels like God or the universe or destiny or whoever decides all this has made them both magnets, and kept them just the right distance away that they want to connect, but can't. And now they can. Jughead hasn't ever been one to fantasize about kissing anyone, and he's never fantasized about kissing Veronica, but he imagines that if he had, this kiss would live up to all expectation. He can taste her lipstick, fruity, and her minty toothpaste still on her tongue, and the slight tang of punch in her mouth. They aren't holding hands anymore, both of his are framing her face, keeping her anchored to him, like he's afraid she's going to break free and run away. Her grip still encircles his wrist, light and loose, but her other hand is curled in his beanie free hair, running the strands between her fingers. He's kissing Veronica Lodge, his soulmate, on the floor of Riverdale High, at the very first school dance he has ever voluntarily gone to, and she gives a soft whimper against his lips that only makes him want to kiss her more. 

They break apart, slightly breathless, and Jughead opens his eyes first, drinking in the flush on Veronica's cheeks and the paintbrush quality of her eyelashes and the lipstick he has smudged ever so slightly. She opens her eyes then, and meets his eyes. And then they're laughing, and not a moment too soon because Archie and Betty come bouncing by, his tie matching her dress and the both of them holding each other's hands. They stop when they see Jughead and Veronica on the floor. 

"Hey guys," Archie says genially. Betty's mouth has once again dropped to a perfect O shape, but there's a knowing glint in her that makes Jughead think either Kevin or Veronica has spilled the beans beforehand. Either that, or she figured it out on her own; he wouldn't put it past her. 

"Hey Archie," Jughead replies, just as casually. "What're you doing out here?" 

"Cheryl won homecoming queen." Jughead nods, and he doesn't have to be looking at Veronica to know that she's nodding too. "And Veronica hadn't come back in a while, so we went out to find her," Betty continues, and then flushes pink. "But it looks like you were safe and sound, right V?" He hears Veronica's Tinkerbell laugh behind him. 

"I'm good B." Betty nods, and looks at Archie. He's got the knowing look too. Jughead shares his own with Veronica, and somehow it's all decided that they're gonna go back to the gym and spend the rest of dance together, the four of them. And they do, for approximately five minutes, before some slow song starts playing and Archie drags Betty **_(_** who looks over the moon **_)_** out on the dance floor. Kevin's hanging out by the punch bowl with a boy Jughead can only assume is the oft talked about Joaquin DeSantos, and both Chuck and Reggie have found some underclassmen to at least pretend to be interested in for the night. Cheryl appears to be engaged in an intimate talk with Josie McCoy, which Jughead finds surprising, given how god awful Cheryl's attitude is, even if Veronica doesn't given the look on her face. 

"Wanna dance?" he asks, holding out his hand. Veronica takes it, and he spins her to him, which elicits that startled huff of a laugh he first found so endearing. That's the only dance move he knows, so they sway, her arms around his shoulders and his hands on her waist. Jughead likes the smell of her perfume.

"What're you thinking about?" The room is abuzz with conversation, soulmates chitchatting and the rest deciding this was as good a time as any to use up their remaining words for the night. He leans close to Veronica's ear, almost conspiratorially.

"I'm thinking I should kiss you again." Veronica turns her cheek so that they're back in that millimeters away from each other place.

"I think you should too." Jughead smiles, and tugs Veronica flush against him. He dips his head, and she tilts her chin up.

He kisses her. And it's as good as it was the first time. 


End file.
